“I pray I do not hear from you again today,” Soranus said.
The day was a blessing Sophia feared would never come. She had surmised herself a woman of barren womb, having been betrothed for three years with no signs of a rounding belly. And besides, she possessed a smaller than average-sized head (for she was a woman of petite stature) and, upon closely inspecting her features in a mirror, she noticed her forehead protruded, albeit ever so slightly—these were both markers of infertility.
When Sophia consulted Soranus, lamenting her inability to conceive amid a gush of tears, he calmly explained the inner workings of her body, noting that all the body’s canals opened to the stomach. He advised her to conduct a fertility test, one devised by the pyramid-building Egyptians, which entailed inserting a piece of garlic into the vaginal canal.
“If your breath does not reek of garlic by morning,” he said, “then you may have a blockage inhibiting conception. But if the smell of garlic emanates from your mouth, a baby you can bear.” The following morning, to her delight, Sophia’s lips smacked of garlic.
Three months thereafter, Sophia believed herself pregnant, having exhibited traditional signs of pregnancy—shivering after intercourse, a heaviness of limbs, swollen and tender breasts, and a cessation of menses. She was overjoyed and immediately called back Soranus to help her determine whether she was, indeed, pregnant. He had her drink a solution of honey and water at bedtime; a distended belly and cramps indicated pregnancy. Though the aftereffects were mild—her belly appeared slightly bloated, and she felt minor discomfort in her abdomen—a wide grin overcame Soranus.
“Be of good cheer! You are pregnant!” he said. Sophia burst into salvoes of shrieks and laughter, happiness bubbling out riotously from her every limb.
“Excite not too much,” Soranus quickly warned. “You must take precautions in order that your husband’s seed not dislodge.” Strong emotions, including her current jubilance, as well as sudden movements such as coughing, sneezing, and falling down, were all forbidden. She was also warned not to sit on hard chairs, leap, or lift heavy weights.
As Sophia entered into the second phase of her pregnancy, which began at forty days, Soranus told of bizarre food cravings that typically inflicted his patients—a desire for charcoal, earth, tendrils of the vine, and unripe fruit. And when the third phase of pregnancy came, he prescribed increased exercise, food, and sleep in order to build up Sophia’s strength. He also wrapped linen bandages around her belly for support, which she removed only to take baths of wine and sweet-water, said to calm the expectant mother’s mind.
When the pangs of labor began, in Sophia’s 42nd week of pregnancy, the household was well prepared. The midwife came equipped with an array of tools for delivery: olive oil for lubrication, goose fat for injection to soften the genitalia, warm water and sea sponges for cleansing, wool bandages for swaddling the infant, strong smelling herbs in case of fainting, and a birthing stool.
After a half day of laboring, the baby had begun its descent. Sophia was given a drink sprinkled with powdered sow’s dung to help ease the pain, and she drank it with haste. She was then placed in the birthing stool, a backless seat with a crescent-shaped hole through which the baby would be delivered. One assistant stood behind her, acting as a back support against which Sophia could comfortably push. The midwife, covering herself with an apron, stood before her. Sophia clenched the armrests and, once it was time, pushed. And she did so for three hours while the attendants pressed down on her abdomen, and the midwife spoke words of encouragement, offering instructions on breathing and pushing, and massaging her genitals to help ease the pain of delivery.
When, after the third hour of pushing, the baby’s head was still not in view, and Sophia looked pale and fatigued, her limbs shaking violently, Soranus was called to assist. He rushed through the door, looking most concerned, and feared the worst for his patient. He took Sophia’s husband aside and spoke in whispers of a procedure called a Caesarian that entailed cutting into the abdomen of the mother in order to rescue the baby, its name having derived from the great emperor Julius Caesar himself who was said to have been delivered in this manner.
“This procedure is typically done in cases where the mother has died, though it has been performed on living mothers who are in grave danger. None that I know, however, have survived,” he frowned. “Though the baby will surely be saved.” Sophia’s husband slumped in anguish.
Many centuries before, when the Greeks dominated the globe, they refused to perform such procedures, despite their god Asclepius having been extracted from the womb. The same taboo existed for the Romans. Shortly after the founding of Rome, a law had been passed requiring a mother to be dead before cutting a child from her womb. In time, however, Caesarians were performed on living mothers, but only in the final month of pregnancy, the danger to the mother being so great. As Rome came to rule the Greek-speaking lands, Caesarians became acceptable in places such as Athens as well.
“The crown!” the midwife yelled.
Soranus rushed to the midwife’s side. Together they encouraged Sophia to push with all the might she had left.
“Wrap your hands in papyrus or cloth, whichever you have brought with you,” Soranus said to the midwife. “Lest the slick newborn slip right through your hands!”
The midwife did as she was instructed and, after a few more pushes that left Sophia drenched in sweat, the baby was born.
“It is a boy!” yelled Soranus with delight. The room came alive with merriment.
The midwife swaddled the infant and cut the umbilical cord. She cleansed the baby, sprinkling him with a powdery salt to soak up the birth residue, and then rinsed the child thoroughly. All the while, the attendants cleared mucus from the nose, mouth, and ears. They smeared olive oil on the infant’s eyes to clear away any remaining birth residue, and placed a piece of wool soaked in olive oil over the umbilical cord stump.
With Soranus peering over her shoulder, the midwife inspected the boy, looking for deformities, ensuring the child had a robust cry, and then made the assessment that the child was healthy. Over the next seven days, however, Sophia’s husband would further inspect their son, making the ultimate decision on whether to keep the boy, or expose him.
To be continued…
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